


Last Night

by Nemesis (ThetaSigma), ThetaSigma



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6346720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/Nemesis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Fin try to piece together last night after they get very drunk. All they know is that they hurt and they've got one hell of a hangover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night

John woke up with a bad hangover and a strangely sore upper arm. It itched and ached, although not nearly as much as his head did. He moaned softly and tried to move an arm to rub at his arm, but his muscles were heavy, unresponsive. He tried to remember last night. It was not often that they drank so much that the night before was a total blur, but when it did happen, usually something interesting happened along with it.

John gave up and fell back asleep. His head was pounding, he was nauseous, and whatever did last night had left his muscles like jelly. He didn’t even bother trying to wake Fin, they’d piece together last night after a few more hours of sleep. 

As John was drifting off to sleep, he tried to at least remember _why_ they had drunk so much. It wasn’t a holiday, either of their birthdays, their anniversary, they didn’t have a case they were celebrating (or drinking to forget about), and as far as John could remember, it had been just the two of them drinking, so they hadn’t started drinking to celebrate or commiserate with someone on the squad. His memory still irritatingly blank, John drifted off to sleep, his right arm, right near his shoulder, still aching.

*** 

Fin woke up several hours later. He picked his head up gingerly, wincing as it pounded with the movement. John was snoring softly next to him, white as a sheet and clammy, and Fin figured John had one hell of a hangover, too. Fin’s upper arm, right near his shoulder, ached, more than the rest of his body.

His muscles were sore and heavy, and Fin cudgeled his brains, trying to remember anything about last night. He was pretty sure they had used the vibrators again – the muscle aches were pretty familiar and characteristic, and there was dried come on his stomach. Usually they managed to at least wipe themselves up (although not always if they were drunk or had been spanking each other), but whenever they used the vibrators, they pretty much passed our right after coming explosively.

Fin tried to remember _anything_ else about last night. Slowly, he started remembering leaving the station with John, grabbing a bite to eat, a beer or two, and no… nothing else. They hadn’t been drunk after dinner, but clearly they’d kept drinking and it was making the whole night a blank.

Ugh, his head was fucking pounding. He needed pain meds and a gallon of water, but he was sure that if he moved, he’d vomit spectacularly. His arm tingled and itched, and he wondered if he banged it last night. He moved his head slightly to look at John, who was still sleeping. Sleep sounded good. He drifted back off.

*** 

It was mid-afternoon before both of them woke up again. Their hangovers were bearable now, their heads still achy and cotton-woolly, but they felt like they could move without vomiting. Their arms still ached, though, even if most of their other muscles had calmed down.

Fin groaned. “My fucking arm, man. I must’ve banged it.”

John gave him a look. “That’s funny, my arm hurts, too.”

“Tingly and itchy?” Fin asked. 

John nodded. 

“Let me take a look,” Fin said. “We probably walked into something when we were drunk, and you bruise more than I do.”

John showed his upper arm to Fin. Fin stared. “Holy shit, babe,” he said. “That ain’t a bruise.” He had a thought and twisted his head and arm to look at his own upper arm. 

They’d gotten matching tattoos last night.

Both of them had gotten half a set of handcuffs, just one cuff each. John’s had the word “Babe” inside the cuff, Fin’s favorite pet name for John. Fin’s said, “My love,” John’s favorite pet name for Fin.

John smiled at it, but Fin was frowning.

“You don’t like them, my love?” John asked, pulling Fin close. 

“It’s not that,” Fin said. “I’m just wondering who the fucking hell tattooed us, given that we were drunk as hell last night. You know it’s against the law to tattoo someone who’s intoxicated!”

John shrugged. “We’ve been considering getting something for a while and never had the balls.” He looked down at his, at the cuff, the swooping Babe, then at Fin’s, the matching cuff, My love in the same font. “They look good.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, babe!” Fin protested. “ _We_ might like these having sobered up, but that doesn’t mean the tattoo parlor should be tattooing drunk people! Let’s go pay them a visit.”

John sighed. “We don’t even remember where we got these.” He was struck by an idea. “I hope we at least had the presence of mind to pick a hygienic place.”

“See! We don’t even know if we did. I should have a receipt; I’m not exactly big on throwing things away when I’m drunk,” Fin said, digging through his jacket pockets. “Ha, found it,” Fin said triumphantly. “Let’s go.”

*** 

They walked in to the tattoo parlor grimly. The young woman working there looked up and smiled at them. “You’re back!” she said. “Normally it takes people several months to decide on a second tattoo,” she said, “and I didn’t really figure you two for the kind who would get more. You two seemed like one of those one-and-done types, you know, matching romantic tattoos. Yours are _adorable_.”

John noted that the place was absolutely spotless, a pack of gloves on the counter, another pack of hairnets, and a box of hospital-grade wipes. He relaxed. He wasn’t as worked up as Fin about the intoxicated tattooing – as far as he was concerned, he was glad they had finally done it, and if it took liquid courage to get them to get the matching tattoos, then okay. He knew it was against the law, but it made him smile to think of the tattoos on their upper arms, and he knew Fin would like it a lot better once he calmed down about the illegality of it.

The young woman frowned. “I hope you’re not here because you don’t like them, though. I mean, there’s not much I can do about that, and you seemed so sure about it last night,” she continued. “You had the design and everything so firmly in mind.”

Fin finally spoke, pulling his badge out. “About last night. We were _drunk_. You know it’s against the law to tattoo anyone who’s intoxicated.”

The woman nodded. “Of course I do, and you weren’t drunk, not yet. I think you two started really drinking after you got the tattoos. Listen, I’ve turned away a lot of people for being drunk. I turned you two away at first, because you two didn’t seem sober to me.”

John answered for his partner before Fin got indignant. “What happened? We’re not remembering it, and we just want to piece last night back together.”

“You and your boyfriend came in here last night, laughing and kissing. You guys make the cutest couple, by the way, I love it. He was upset because the last tattoo parlor you had gone to had kicked you out for being gay, and you were telling him that you wouldn’t give your money to anyone who was a homophobe anyway and that he should be glad the guy was so upfront about it instead of tattooing something offensive onto you.”

John nodded, that sounded like him. “Go on.”

“You told me you two wanted matching tattoos. I looked at you and said, no way, you two had been drinking and I don’t tattoo people who are drunk, it’s against the law and anyway, that’s how tattoo artists get into trouble the next day when people sober up and realize they don’t want pictures of Tweety Bird taking a shit on them for the rest of their lives. Your boyfriend – Fin, you told me your names – protested that you guys weren’t drunk, just had had a beer or two with dinner, but I was firm. No tattoos.”

Fin butted in. “Clearly we got tattooed, and clearly we got drunk, because we remember _nothing_ , and we _have_ tattoos. And you remember our tattoos, and we have a receipt from here, so we convinced you _somehow_.”

She nodded. “You two left. You came back half an hour later with a fucking _breathalyzer_. John pulled his badge out and said, ‘It’s cool, we’re cops, this is from the squad room, it’s a real breathalyzer.’ I was still hesitant, so you, Fin, pulled your phone out and filmed it just in case. Check your phone.”

Fin patted his pockets and pulled his phone out. He flipped through it until he found the video. He hit play. _‘Say hi,’ Fin’s voice said. The young woman waved and said hi. ‘I’m Sheila, I’m the tattoo artist here.’_

_‘This video is to prove that we are making a fully informed, legal choice. John, you go first.’_

_John flashed his badge for the video camera, then his ID, and said, ‘This is Detective John Munch, and I’m proving I am under the legal limit and am not impaired.’ John blew into the breathalyzer and showed the results to the video screen. He was at 0.03. ‘See? Not impaired. I can make a rational, adult decision about getting a tattoo. Fin, you’re up.’_

The picture shifted shakily as the phone had gotten handed to John. _Fin flashed his badge for the camera, then his ID, and said, ‘This is Detective Odafin Tutuola, and I’m also under the legal limit.’ He blew into the breathalyzer and showed the results to the camera. 0.04. ‘I am also not impaired and can make a rational, adult decision about getting a tattoo. As you can see, we are not drunk, we are under the legal limit, and this video, along with our consent forms, indemnifies – sorry, what was your name again?’_

_‘Sheila.’_

_‘Sheila from any responsibility for tattooing us after having had a drink with dinner.’_

The video ended. 

“Well, after that – you two _were_ under the legal limit as shown by a _breathalyzer_ you brought, you signed waivers and consent forms and made a _video_ – I did the tattoos. You guys were pretty insistent about getting them and knew exactly what you wanted and it wasn’t anything outrageous, and it was clear the two of you were in a relationship. But when you two left, you were talking about drinking more. You guys definitely got drunk _after_ you left here, not before you came here. Guys, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

John turned to Fin. “Are you still upset?” he asked Fin.

Fin shook his head. “Nah. I… it’s… I love you, you know that, John.”

He turned to Sheila. “I’m sorry for accusing you,” he said contritely. 

She smiled. “Not a problem, and if you guys do decide on another tattoo, I’d be happy to see you again.”

“I love them,” John said sincerely. “They look fantastic; you did a great job.”

Sheila blushed. “Thanks.”

*** 

Months passed. They hadn’t told anyone about the tattoos, it being a private thing between them. One day, Fin stormed into the squad room, his shirt absolutely covered in mud and blood from a crime scene. His jacket was fine, John having thoughtfully taken it from him, but John had also stood feet away from anything that could get on his clothes, so Fin was not thinking charitable thoughts about John right this second.

“You look like shit,” Cragen said. “You got an extra shirt in your locker, or do I need to send you home before you scare anyone?”

“I got an extra, Cap,” Fin said, glaring at his partner. John was still carrying Fin’s jacket, absolutely spotless. “’Course, I might not be so fucking dirty if _someone_ hadn’t acted like a fucking cat near water and come and given me a fucking hand.”

“Hey now,” John protested. “Mud gets in my bones and makes them ache. Besides, you know how hard it is to get it out of a suit?”

“If you don’t _shut up_ , I ain’t ever getting _you_ out of a suit again,” Fin grumbled at him, banging his locker door open and yanking his spare shirt out. The others ignored the banter; it was common by now between Fin and John.

Fin tugged his shirt off and dropped it on the floor. “Fuck, I’m muddy _underneath_ ,” he muttered. “Cap, I’m gonna give myself a wipe-down in the bathroom before changing,” he called. “Be five minutes.”

“Fine.”

Fin emerged a few minutes later, significantly cleaner, still shirtless. He was slightly damp, and John looked on appreciatively, keeping his mouth shut. There was their usual banter and then there was provocative sex talk, and he knew where to draw the line at work.

“Whoa, Fin,” Liv said, staring at Fin.

“Hey!” John protested. “That’s _my_ man,” he said possessively. 

Liv rolled her eyes at John. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, stepping closer to Fin. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” she said to Fin, going to peer at his upper arm. Fin slapped his hand over it quickly before she could see it.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “Is it that bad? Work inappropriate?”

Fin said nothing, just kept his hand over it.

“Whatever it is, I’m gonna see it when you go put your shirt on,” she said practically. “You can’t do that while holding your arm.”

Fin cursed under his breath. He reluctantly moved his hand, and Liv looked closely. “ _Awwwww_ ,” she cried. “That’s _so cute_. Does he really call you that?”

“Yes,” Fin ground out between clenched teeth, yanking his shirt over his head and covering up the tattoo. 

“John, do you have one?” she asked, bouncing over to John. 

John looked at Fin, who said, “Yo, she saw mine, you may as well show her.”

“Yeah, I have one too,” John said, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it down so she could see his. 

“Awww, they _match_ ,” she cooed. “You two are _adorable_.”

“You’re not usually this… cooey,” John said, making up a word on the spot. 

Liv patted his arm. “Yes, but you two are adorable. Gives me hope,” she said quietly. 

“You’ll find someone, Liv,” John said, smiling at Fin. “Look at my record before I found Fin. Don’t give up.”


End file.
